


Stay Together

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Incest, M/M, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, banter and flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5507492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dolokhov and the Kuragin siblings always end up coming back to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furchte_die_schildkrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/gifts).



“Please, this is important.” Anatole gives him a long, pleading look. “I cannot stop thinking about her!”

Dolokhov smirks, twirling a quill lightly, shifting it idly from hand to hand. Anatole comes to sit on the edge of the desk, swinging his legs like a schoolboy. “Why don’t you just write to her yourself?” Dolokhov asks. He’s teasing. Anatole is terrible at writing anything sensible. 

“You’re so much better at it though. I simply don’t know how to tell her how I feel when I see her.”

Dolokhov smirks knowingly. “And how is that?”

“Well, you’ve seen her! Natasha is…she is a goddess! Her shoulders…so slim and fair. And when she looks at you, the entire world fades away and she is all that’s left, this beautiful little…flower.” Anatole flushes, the excitement of speaking about Natasha Rostova showing in his every feature. He quickly became restless, his pupils dilating with excitement and desire. He looks over at Dolokhov, looking for reassurance. 

Dolokhov watches him, amused. He likes seeing Anatole like this – flushed and excited, full of passion, his hair disheveled and his unwavering composure and self-assurance all askew. Dolokhov feels his own body respond to the image that Anatole presents, feels his britches tighten and his breathing speed up slightly. “Go on.”

“What? Oh…well, what is there to say, _mon cher_? She is the most beautiful and charming woman in the world.”

“I thought that was your sister.”

Anatole pauses, obviously taken aback. Before, Dolokhov thinks, Anatole had only ever spoken of Helene with quite so much passion. “Helene is the best woman in the world. She understands me and she is like me. But Natasha! Ah, Natasha is something else entirely! You must help me or I will die of love.” 

Dolokhov laughs, a low sound, full of lust. He tugs at Anatole’s arm, making the boy slide down from the desk and onto his lap. Anatole responds easily to this intimacy, his hands finding Dolokhov’s shoulders and the nape of his neck almost on instinct. “So tell me then, what would you do if you had, eh?”

“What would I do? I would…I would kiss her…so very passionately.” He leans forward, his forehead touching Dolokhov’s. Their breathing mingles and Dolokhov reaches up to slide a hand over Anatole’s back. “I would take off her dress and find her full breasts..”

“They’re not very full from what I saw,” Dolokhov murmurs as his other hand finds the top button on Anatole’s shift. 

“Shut up, you’re killing the mood.” Anatole pushes his hips forward. Dolokhov can feel how hard the boy is even through his clothes and a burst of pleasure goes through his own body at the welcome friction. 

“You want her don’t you?” Dolokhov leans forward and nips gently at Anatole’s ear. 

“Oh yes…” Anatole lets out a moan and from there he is obviously lost. 

“How about you stop talking and show me just how much you want it.”

They do this sometimes – indulge their desires. When they’re drunk, when Anatole is infatuated with another girl he can’t – or shouldn’t – have, when there is nothing better to do. If Dolokhov bothered to reflect on the subject, he would likely come to the conclusion that he needs these trysts of theirs more than Anatole – Anatole is more of a ladies’ man, so to speak. But if doesn’t really matter. They fit well together and the sex is always, always unrelentingly good.

***

“I see you are not convinced.” Anatole rewards Helene with an offended pout. 

“No. Not ten thousand rubles worth, at any rate.”

“Does it really matter what I need them for?”

“Of course it matters if I’m giving them to you.” Helene meets her brother’s eyes in the mirror as she takes out the clips in her hair. It has been a long and tiring evening, full of entertainments and social obligations. 

Anatole comes up behind her and puts both hands on her shoulders. “My sweet sister, I’m certain you are aware of how in love I am as of late.” His hands are warm and soft against her exposed skin. 

Helene scoffs slightly. “You talk of nothing else. Not that I really blame you. She _is_ charming. Have you made any progress with her, by the way? I could set up a more private rendezvous. I wouldn’t mind seeing that charming girl myself.”

“I’ve been writing to her.”

“Oh?” Helene turns and looks up into Anatole’s face with some curiosity. “Dolokhov’s been helping you, hasn’t he?” she concludes finally. 

“You’re very sharp.”

“I just know you. But isn’t ten thousand rubles a little much? That’s a quarter of what you spend in a year.” She looks back into the mirrors, watching the waves of her silky hair descend onto her shoulders. “How about fifty?”

Anatole makes a frustrated sound. “I’m very much out of money and Papa has cut off my allowance…” 

“I’m surprised it took him so long.” Anatole tightens his grip on Helene’s shoulders and turns her around. She allows it, turning gracefully on her heels, tiptoeing so she is eye-to-eye with her brother for a moment. “Don’t you think, Anatole, that it’s not quite decent of you to ask me for money so you can better run after another woman?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” He winds his arms around her waist and nuzzles her hair, breathing in the rich, sweet perfume she is wearing. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“No, of course not. I find your dalliances terribly entertaining. I just don’t fancy paying for them.” 

“What if I could offer you an incentive?” Anatole lets go of her and walks jauntily across the room. On reaching her bed, he turns and gives his sister a bright smile. “You find Natasha enchanting too, I know you do. You and I have similar taste, sweet sister.”

“Alright, I’m listening.” Helene begins to slowly walk across the room, unlacing her dressing gown as she goes, allowing it to slip off her shoulders and onto the floor. 

Anatole stares appreciatively at her body as it is revealed – once again – to his hungry gaze. “I will…share. If you help me out.”

Helene stops a few steps away from Anatole and tilts her head thoughtfully. “You are willing to share such a coveted prize with me?”

Anatole takes her by the hand and pulls her closer. “I enjoying sharing with you. I am a little possessive of my Natasha, but if you were to help me, I think it would only be right if I overcame my pride…” 

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all day.” Helene laughs and pushes Anatole back. His knees hit the bed and he goes tumbling backwards onto the soft down blankets. “We have a deal, Anatole.” 

This is not a first for them. Ever since they were kids they had shared everything – pleasures, disappointments, endeavors, and, as of late, their bodies. It seems so natural to them to be together, far more than being apart. Anatole has no idea how he will convince Natasha to indulge Helene’s attentions, but he supposes he will think of something eventually. Anatole thinks that if there is one thing he will regret leaving behind when he goes abroad, it will be his sister. 

***

Helene breezes into Dolokhov’s study and starts in on him without preamble. “This is all your fault.” 

Dolokhov slams down the deck of cards he’d been fidgeting with and stands, ready for the fuss he is sure Helene will make. “Oh no. Don’t you dare blame me for this.” 

“Who else should I blame? You were supposed to look out for him.”

“I’m not his damn babysitter.” 

Helene huffs, hands on hips. She is not about to let him down easy. “So instead of stopping him you decide to _help_ him with this idiocy?”

“You gave him money. How is that not helping?” Dolokhov stocks around the desk and leans back against it, one eyebrow raised. 

“I didn’t know what it was for!”

“And you didn’t think to _ask_?” 

“I didn’t think he’d be fool enough to try to elope.” For a moment, she looks almost hurt. “He’s got plenty to entertain him here.” 

Dolokhov ignores the last part of that. Wallowing in self-pity and jealousy is pointless. In this, the three of them understand one another. “Either way, what should I have done? He would have gone through with it anyway, but he’d have botched up the entire thing, naturally. Helping him was the only way I could keep him safe.”

Helene does not look convinced. “Well it all went terribly wrong anyway, did it not?” She sighs and touches the tips of her slender fingers to her forehead. “Where is Anatole now?”

“I poured some vodka into him and put him to bed.” They look at each other for a quiet moment. “It’s best that he thinks the Rostova girl changed her mind and sold him out. Otherwise, he just might try to continue pursuing this venture. You know, this is the best result we could have had.” Dolokhov walks over to her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Or you would have been left here alone with me.”

Helene rolls her eyes at him. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“I don’t know. Are you scared?” He reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, pulling her closer. 

Helene doesn’t make a move to distance herself but neither does she quite submit to him. “Don’t you dare.”

Dolokhov’s smirk becomes sharp. “I dueled for you.”

“You dueled for yourself, because you’re an adrenaline junkie.” 

“Fair enough.” He leans in to kiss her, all sharp angles and rakish smiles against her soft, feminine curves and gestures—

“What are you two doing?”

They jump apart, startled, and look around. Anatole stands in the doorway looking tired and disheveled, his shirt unbuttoned. 

Dolokhov shifts a little awkwardly; he has the look of a child caught stealing sweets. “What are you doing here, love? You should be sleeping.” 

“I heard you arguing.” Anatole tilts his head, a mildly amused look slowly coming over his face. “But apparently I was wrong.”

“Why don’t you go back to bed,” Helene suggests, her eyes roaming over Anatole with more concern than desire. 

Anatole comes to stand between the two of them and slides one arm around his sister’s waist and the other around Dolokhov’s. “I’d like it better if you came with me. Both of you.” 

Dolokhov looks from Helene to Anatole and back again. “You’re lucky I’m fond of you both.”

“Are we now?” Helene draws out, but she does not protest when Anatole starts guiding them to the door. 

It’s always like this with the three of them. They love each other, though sometimes they pretend not to. They share in each other’s pleasures and troubles. And, in the end, they always stay together.


End file.
